


The Other Tiffany

by MotherMaple



Series: For a good time, call Betty [3]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 14:26:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12509460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherMaple/pseuds/MotherMaple
Summary: Exactly four years after Reggie and Cheryl's wedding, Jughead has a question for Betty.Coda/sequel to For a Good Time, Call Betty...





	The Other Tiffany

**Author's Note:**

> With humble gratitude and adoration to jandjsalmon; you beautiful, spotted unicorn, you sleek and graceful otter, you finder of all things bad in prose and dialogue. Thank you (but not Ruth, who left us) for tearing my story apart (not really, you were very gentle), and waging war against my author's insecurities. Beta extraordinaire, ladies and gents. She's a keeper.

Betty slammed the front door and dropped her bag on the floor as she stalked down the hallway, past the study, and into the bedroom, slamming that door as well. 

Jughead looked up from his laptop in surprise as she stormed past, and winced as he heard the door frame protest the impact. Closing his laptop, he headed down the hall and knocked softly on the door. "Betts? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she answered, sounding tired. "Just give me a minute."

Leaning against the wall, he waited until the door cracked open again and Betty came out, dressed in her pyjamas at five o'clock in the afternoon. "I arrested the Anderson kid again," she said, leaning forwards and resting the top of her head on his chest. "Vandalism."

He sighed and pulled her against him. "I'm sorry, love," he said, rubbing her back. "What did his Mom say this time?"

"His Dad's deployed again, he's acting out. Same story."

"She needs to get him into Big Brothers or something. A fourteen-year-old kid shouldn't have a record."

"I know," Betty sighed, shifting to wrap her arms around Jughead's waist. "The social worker's going to try to sort it out."

A year after Betty had started working at the Kirby in New York City, the NYPD had had a hiring spree. Betty had applied and was accepted, completing the six-month training program with record-breaking scores and praise from all of her instructors. Her first two years as an officer had been exhilarating, rewarding, and exhausting – especially since she had forged ahead with her Master's program part-time, finally completing it with distinction nearly four years after finishing her undergrad.

She loved her job, but the revolving-door aspect of the criminal justice system bothered her. It was frustrating to arrest the same people over and over again, knowing that the circumstances dictating their actions were not going to change, and knowing that the system was not set up to help people. Her lifelong ability to compartmentalize had been an asset, but some cases stuck with her.

"Anything I can do?" Jughead asked quietly.

Betty shook her head and pressed a soft kiss to his neck. "No, but thanks. Just another day I shouldn't dwell on. What do you feel like for dinner?"

"I made lasagna, it should be done in a few minutes. Want a glass of wine?"

"Have I told you lately how much I love you?" she smiled. "When did you have time to make lasagna?"

Jughead had graduated from Elmhurst two years previously and was immediately snapped up by a major publisher, where he now worked as a junior editor. He liked it – congenial employment that paid the bills, he liked to say – but he spent a good chunk of his free time writing for an online publication, submitting short stories and essays that received rave reviews and had a habit of going viral.

"It's only Friday for C-shift, Officer Cooper. It's Sunday for the rest of us."

"Is it? I thought it was Monday." She chuckled ruefully and rubbed her hands over her face. "A glass of wine would be great."

He kissed the top of her head and bent down, scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder.

"Juggie," she squealed, laughing and lightly smacking his backside. "Put me down this instant."

"Nope. You've been working hard all day," he said, carrying her down the hall and depositing her on a stool next to the breakfast bar. "Red or white?"

"Is that even a question?" she teased.

He made a face at her and poured a glass of Merlot that would definitely have raised a sommelier's eyebrows.

"That's way more than six ounces," she said, picking up the glass and toasting him with it. "Not that I'm complaining."

"I feel like there's a dirty joke in there somewhere, but I'll refrain," he answered, using potholders to pull a steaming, bubbling tray out of the oven. "You hungry?"

"I'm starving, I had to skip lunch today."

The tray clattered on the stove top as he spun around to look at her. "You worked a twelve-hour shift! Why did you skip lunch?

"Busy catching bad guys," she shrugged. "Max did, too."

Max Chang had been Betty's partner since her first day on the job; he was a more experienced officer and Jughead knew Betty trusted him with her life – literally. "I thought Erin packed him something every day?"

Betty snorted into her wine glass. "They had a fight last night. She packed him a twenty-dollar bill in a zippy bag, with a note saying 'I love you, but you were a butthead and I wasn't getting up at four in the morning to make you a sandwich. Be safe.'"

"Sounds like Erin," Jughead laughed, turning back to the stove and dishing up two plates of lasagna. "Was it serious?"

"I don't think so," Betty answered, moving into the kitchen and getting out cutlery. "Just your typical 'grumpy, overworked cop and stressed wife duke it out over the toilet paper' kind of thing."

"Been there, done that," he grinned, tickling her side playfully. "I didn't know what cranky meant until you spent that month on the night shift."

She scowled, fighting back a smile, and swatted at him with a cloth napkin. "I was not that bad. Now, feed me or you'll really find out what cranky means."

…

Betty kicked the dishwasher shut and started the cycle, dodging out of Jughead's way as he maneuvered around her in the tiny kitchen to put the leftovers in the fridge. "That was amazing, Jug. Thanks for cooking."

"Least I can do when you're out protecting our fair city all day," he said, sliding his arms around her waist and swaying gently. "Feel better?"

"Much."

"Can I talk to you about something?"

She turned in his arms and smiled up at him. "Anything. Am I going to need wine for this?"

"Can't hurt. I need some advice."

"Intriguing," she said musingly, grabbing the half-empty bottle and two glasses. "Lead on."

They made their way to the balcony where Jughead sank down on a pile of pillows, drawing up his knees and leaving room for Betty to settle between his legs.

"This is fancy," she smiled, pouring them each a glass of wine and taking in the nest-like perch Jughead had created while she was at work. "Feels like those forts we used to build when we were kids, remember?"

"My inspiration," he said, taking a glass from her. "Are you warm enough?" It was June, but a light breeze stirred the air.

Betty smiled and rested her head on his shoulder, turning and draping her legs over his thigh. "As long as you don't mind sharing your body heat."

"I didn't realize I had a choice in the matter," he said, savouring the feeling of her resting contentedly against him.

"You don't, but it's manners to ask." She reached up and pressed her lips softly to his jaw. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

He swallowed a small sip of wine and set the glass down, wrapping his arms around her and playing idly with her hair. "Do you remember freshman year when I had a huge crush on Melody and you helped me figure out how to invite her to the Hallowe'en dance?"

"I do."

"And then you were my sounding board when I planned that Valentine's date for Maria?"

Betty laughed at the memory. "How could I forget? What other 16-year-old could come up with a winter picnic and actually make it work?"

"I believe the space heaters were your idea.  Anyway, my point is, you've always been my wingman." 

"If this is a request to sing 'You've Lost That Loving Feeling' in a bar to impress someone, I’m in."

"It's not," he laughed, "but I'll keep that in mind. I do need your help though. There's this girl."

A ghost of a smile played across Betty's lips. "A girl, huh? What's she like?"

"She's everything. She's smart and funny, and she has the biggest heart imaginable. The kind of girl that nurses injured birds back to health, you know? And she'd do anything for the people she loves."

Betty nodded. "Sounds like quite a woman," she said, toying with the stem of her glass and keeping her dancing eyes cast down.

"You have no idea. And beautiful – so damn beautiful it almost hurts. Sometimes she looks at me and I forget to breathe."

"You? I don't believe that; I saw some of the girls you dated in college."

"They can't hold a candle to her," he said dismissively. "She's Phryne."

"The prostitute?" Betty asked, looking up skeptically.

Jughead shook his head, looking down and studying Betty's eyes. "That was just her day job. She'll go down in history as the only mortal woman beautiful enough to stand in for Aphrodite. Powerful and intelligent and stunning. She had everything the Goddess had, but none of the vanity, none of the petty games." 

"I see. And what do you and Phryne need my help with?"

"I want to marry her." He traced Betty's jaw softly with his thumb as his gaze flitted over her face. "I'm head over heels in love with her and I need you to help me ask her."

A startled breath escaped her lips and she struggled to keep her face straight, determined to play along and let him have his moment even as her heart beat wildly against her ribs. "I see," she said, clearing her throat. "Okay, what do you have so far?"

He shifted and stretched one leg out, leaning against the balcony door and looking up at the sky. "Well," he said thoughtfully, "some guys start off with a big speech about how they knew she was the one the moment they met."

"That wouldn't work?"

"Not really. The first time I met her, she reminded me of a Polly Pocket doll, only shinier."

Betty laughed again. "Okay, so not the most romantic start."

"No, I didn't think so. I've always loved her, but until about four years ago I figured the role I'd play in her wedding would be more Maid of Honour than Groom, you know?"

"So, you're good friends, then?"

He looked down, meeting her gaze steadily. "Best friends. We both had shitty parents growing up, so we made ourselves a little family, just the two of us."

"That's probably a good place to start," she said softly. "The person you marry should be your best friend."

"Well that's one thing I’ve got right, then," he grinned. "You're helping already."

"Who am I to stand in the way of true love? What else have you got?"

Jughead sighed and looked away again, thinking. "Some people tell the story of the moment they fell in love."

"And?”

His low chuckle vibrated in his chest and she smiled, remembering the turmoil they'd both experienced. "I don't remember when I fell for her. It just hit me one day that she was the only girl for me, and then I almost threw up."

"Now that's romantic," Betty giggled. "Every girl wants to have that effect. Be sure to put that into your speech."

"Noted."

Betty sat up and swiveled around, crossing her legs and facing him. "So," she said, checking items off on her fingers. "You've complimented her intelligence and her heart, compared her indirectly to the Goddess of love and beauty, mentioned that she's your best friend, and told a self-deprecating story. I guess all that's left is why you want to marry her."

"Because she's my other half," he said simply. "We belong together and I want to spend the rest of my life falling in love with her."

"I thought you already did that."

Jughead shook his head. "No, not really. I've been falling for four years and I haven't stopped yet."

Betty blinked furiously and brushed impatiently at her eyes. "I think you've covered all your bases, then. All you have to do is ask her." Her voice cracked, and she smiled shakily at him. "For what it's worth, I think you have a pretty solid shot."

He nodded and exhaled heavily, chewing his lip. “Betts-no, hold on. I want to do this right.” Taking her hand, he shifted to one knee and pulled a small, black velvet box out of his pocket. “Betty, I love you more than I could have ever imagined possible.” His voice was low, and his grip on her hand unsteady. “You’ve been the best thing in my life for twenty years and I can never thank you enough for taking this leap with me. I promised you’d never regret it, and I hope you haven't.”

"I haven't," she whispered breathlessly, watching him with rapt attention. "Not once.”

He took a deep breath. "Will you take one more leap with me, Betty Cooper? Will you marry me?"

Tears blurred her vision and spilled down her cheeks as she threw herself forwards, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. "I will," she laughed, sniffling and nodding frantically into his shoulder. "Of course, I will."

His arms slid around her, one hand gripping the back of her head tightly as he buried his face in her hair. "Thank you," he breathed, holding her so close he could feel her heartbeat. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too." She pulled back, realizing he was trembling. "Wait, were you actually nervous?” she asked incredulously. “You knew I was going to say yes."

"It's still nerve-wracking, Cooper," he said, rolling his eyes. "I've never done this before."

She chuckled, ceding his point. "Fair enough. You did great, though."

"I’m glad you think so. Just, one more thing." He flipped open the box. "I hope you don't mind that I didn't wait for you to pick it out."

"Of course, I don't mind. It's perfect," she said faintly, admiring the sparkling ring – a classic oval on a plain band – nestled on the black cushion. "Tiffany's?" she added dryly, smirking at him as he plucked it out of the box. "There's a name I haven't heard in a while."

"It seemed fitting, in a facetious sort of way.” Jughead reverently kissed the back of her hand and smiled giddily at her as he slipped the ring onto her finger.

She drew a deep breath and shivered, stroking the diamond with her thumb. "Wow," she murmured, staring at it. "This is really happening. We're really getting married."

"Yeah, we are.” He caught her eye and they both laughed, a little dazed. “Who would have thought?" he asked, leaning back onto the pillows and pulling her down alongside him.

"Literally everyone except us," she deadpanned, snuggling against him. "We have so many people rooting for us, we practically need a ship name."

He groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "As long as Kevin doesn't get to pick it," he sighed, and she chuckled, nodding her agreement.

They lay quietly together, watching the clouds drift by, reliving the moment. "Hey," Betty said suddenly, remembering something he’d said.

"Yeah?" Jughead asked lazily, stroking her back.

"Would you really have been my Maid of Honour? Like if you weren't in love with me, I mean."

"Of course, I would. I'd do anything to make you happy, Betts. You know that."

 

***

 


End file.
